


lovers do the looking

by tnevmucric



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Healing, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, P5R Spoilers, Post-Game(s), Reunions, Trans Character, a bit of a mess bc i wrote it in one sitting but yk, goro with v long hair ghhhh, unbetad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23769373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnevmucric/pseuds/tnevmucric
Summary: ah, his body hummed, stopping in its place, listening to the footsteps of the man walking away; i know you. ren turned his head, catching the tail end of the man’s tan coat. it was one he had seen before. his feet turned in place. ah, his body remembered, that’s what we’re missing. this is the feeling of having a chain drag you by before you realise it’s attached to your ankle, and you have no choice but to go along with it, even if you want to hide. nobody can hide forever.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro & Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 111





	lovers do the looking

Ren Amamiya is pulling sterile gloves on his hands when he thinks about a dead man.

“You alright?”, his coworker asks, looking up from her clipboard. “Do we need to debrief?”

“No, I’m okay.” Ren bundles up the bloodied sheets and folds them over each other, the strings of his face-mask strain behind his ears; the yellow glow of the overhead light felt unnecessary. “How about you?”

“I don’t know”, she leans her head against the wall and clicks her pen shut. “Usual stuff. If only we’d gotten there sooner, etcetera.”

“We can’t save everyone”, Ren reminds her, shaking open a disposable bag. “We did everything we could to the best of our ability. That’s all we can do.”

She gives him a tired smile. “I know. Thanks, Ren.” 

He goes home to silence and sunset, letting the door lock itself and shoving his shoes in the corner, nudging them straight when one falls over. The insatiable itch to move and forget is slightly less avoidable tonight, and the stare he gives his apartment is weary. He resigns to boiling some water and bringing a bucket out from the laundry.

(He thinks about Goro Akechi.)

The coffee he makes tastes bland, and he tips it down the sink. The orange juice in his fridge is out of date and he doesn’t taste the eggs he fried to eat, only swallowing them down with the pretence of not having an empty stomach. He listens to the radio while he scrubs the kitchen floor: the gloves he wears are rubber and green, folding in on themselves towards his elbows and squeaking when he scrubs particularly hard. He’s hurting his knees, barely listening to the FM channel that’s only been playing last summer’s hits. He gets through two EDM songs, one punk hit, six pop showstoppers and and several, well-rounded ads before he leans back and slumps against the corner cabinets.The sun is still out, refusing to let go of the last few minutes left in the day, and a headache threatens to build behind his eyes. He shuts them, trying to enjoy the warmth filtering through the window behind the scent of tile cleaner. Ren listens to his heart for a while. When he leans his head between his knees, he can feel out the knots he’s developed in his shoulders from overnight shifts. He’ll go to the gym with Ryuji next week and forget about them, maybe.

(He thinks about Goro Akechi.)

He opens his eyes. It’s cooler out, and the station must be playing another ad because someone is asking him if he’s ever thought about life insurance. He drags himself off of the floor, over to his bedroom where everything is overstuffed and comfortable, and he slumps into bed. The birds and passing strangers are suddenly quiet outside and the sun is moments away from disappearing behind the trees, so he waits in the silence. It took him back to nights in Leblanc’s attic where the quiet reminders of life outside were hidden in every corner.

He flicks a cat toy off the bed with his foot. Morgana must still be at Haru’s.

(He thinks about Goro Akechi.) 

He feels feverish.

_ > you awake? _

** futaba:  ** _ are any of us ever truly awake _

**futaba:** _ whats up u just finished a shift right _

**futaba:** _smth happen?_

_ > tough night _

**futaba:** _wanna skype?_

** futaba:  ** _we can watch a movie or talk if u want_

**futaba: ** _i can tell u a long convoluted story abt this guy at work_

**futaba:** _i went through his search history u would not believe the things i found_

_ > no it’s alright  _

_ > just wanted to let you know I love you  _

_ > dad doing okay? _

** futaba:  ** _lyt_

**futaba:** _he’s fine the new part timer he hired sucks ass so all he’s been doing is complaining but u kno how he is_

 ** futaba:  ** _ur thinking abt him huh_

 **futaba:** _akechi i mean not sojiro_

_ > am I that obvious? _

** futaba:  ** _i know how u get_

**futaba:** _what time r u free tmrw_

 ** futaba:  ** _ i’ll come by _

** futaba:  ** _ curry, season 3 of featherman r, those gummy fish u like _

** futaba:  ** _ the works _

_ > I have a day off tomorrow you’re lucky  _

**futaba:** _ oh I’M lucky _

** futaba:  ** _ go to sleep asshole i’ll come over at like 5  _

Ren lays in bed and tries to forget.  
  


* * *

“Why are you eating breakfast?”, Ann asks him at 11:30 in the morning, in the form of a pixelated screen propped up against a fruit bowl. 

“Long night”, Ren says through a mouthful. He thinks he’s dribbled milk onto his shirt. “How’s wedding planning?”

“Good, good.” Her hair bounces as she walks, and he has half the mind to screenshot the great under-chin angle she has going on. “Haru set us up with a cake guy so we’re doing tastings on Friday.”

“Don’t forget you’re allergic to almonds.” She curses, suddenly tapping at her own screen quickly.

“I _knew_ I forgot something—and Makoto wanted to try the marzipan cake too! This is a disaster.”

“I’m sure she’ll be able to live without almonds.”

“But will I still be alive when she finds out I forgot about my one and only allergy?” She huffs and readjusts am earbud. “Anyway, how’s work going?”

He eats more cereal.

“Fine.”

“Fine as in fine”, she says, “or fine as in you’re emotionally constipated.” He points his spoon at her accusingly.

“Futaba spoke to you.”

“Futaba didn’t speak to me”, is her quick reply, and then she groans, headphones tangling in her hair as she hops down the steps to the underground mall. “Okay, Futaba spoke to me. It’s only because she was worried, don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad”, Ren says automatically and they both wince. He sets his spoon down and leans his cheek on his hand. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

“Have you thought about taking a break?”, she asks. “You’ve kinda been working nonstop lately, and your job is super stressful. Maybe you need a holiday.” Ren snorts and shakes his head.

“Where would I go?”

“Anywhere!” She throws an arm in the air dramatically and squeaks, apologising profusely to a shop owner and walking quickly away. “What I mean is that you can do anything, you know? Don’t stay cooped up in the same routine. _Get out there!_ Make out with some people, regret it, get your nose pierced, bleach your hair— ”

“Who are you telling to bleach their hair?”, comes Makoto’s voice and Ann smiles serenely at her off screen, pulling out a headphone and jostling it over to her fiancé. 

“Just Ren.” Makoto squishes into frame and peers at the phone, a little too close and squinting.

“Ren, don’t bleach your hair.”

“She also told me to get a piercing.”

_ “Ann!” _

“I was telling him ways to spice up his life!”, Ann protests. “He needs to go on a holiday and learn to relax for once.” A pointed look is sent his way and Makoto gives a little hum, her finger going to her chin.

“That is a good idea”, she concedes, giving Ren a look. “You seem tired.”

“Have you been following your skin routine?”, Ann scrutinises. “The toner, the sunscreen, the twenty minute face mask, the—” Ren starts to crinkle a nearby packet of cat treats, picking up the phone and feigning a frown.

“What was that? You’re breaking up.”

“Ren, we can _see_ —”

“Oh, man, this connections awful. I gotta go, I’m going through a tunnel, call you later.”

“At least exfoliate!” He hangs up and Morgana prowls in lazily with a yawn.

“Did I hear treats?”

Ren tips a few out onto the counter and the cat jumps up, letting out a pleased purr.

“You’re going to Haru’s again today, right?”, he asks and Morgana nods.

“Remember to leave the window open for me this time.” He nudges his head against Ren’s fingers and Ren scratches him behind the ears.

“I will, sorry.”

He cleans for the rest of the day. Forces himself to do unimportant things like rolling his socks and wiping the door handles—he washes the floor again, too, and reorganises the cupboards. He doesn’t think about Goro Akechi, but sort of, inadvertently, definitely does when he finds his old journal amongst the books on his shelf; the one he gave Sojiro who promptly gave it back and said  _ why don’t you stick around for another year, kid?  _ He flopped onto the floor and flicked through the entires, doodles of cats and chess moves planned, coffee notes, a crossed out haiku and test answers.

(Red and blue pen, scribbled down a page in November. Several games of knots and crosses all with the same outcome—no winner.)

He shut the book and went back to cleaning.  
  


* * *

“Pink’s a lesbian”, Futaba argues, waving her fork around, “You’re just in denial.” She then proceeds to drop a gummy fish into his curry. 

She’s convinced him into wearing the most awful toe-spreader socks in lieu of a comfortable evening and forced an array of clips into his hair, smearing on a coffee-scented scrub Ann told Ryuji who told Haru who told Futaba was great for clogged pores (“Your whole life is one big clogged pore”, she’d said, wiping her fingers on his shoulder. “Be grateful.”)

“How’s Sumire?”, Ren asked, pushing the fish around his plate.

“Another win for Japan”, Futaba announces, slamming her dish onto the coffee table and kicking her feet up. “She should be back in town by the end of the week.”

“Tell her I said congratulations.”

“You could tell her yourself”, Futaba points out and leans back, stretching her arms behind her. “I know you said you didn’t wanna talk about it but, like, you could just talk and I could pretend not to listen.”

He laughs a little and sets his plate down beside hers. “I’m fine, it’s just been a long week.”

“It’s been a long week for longer than a week”, she says then huffs and pulls a USB out of her hoodie pocket, throwing it at him—he fumbles to catch it.

“What’s this?”

“Any info I could find in the last 7 or so years about Goro Akechi. Run yourself ragged but just—“, she punches his shoulder with some fluster. “Just _promise_ me you’ll see someone or something if you don’t find anything. I know you already have a therapist but my grief councillor was really good with me and I thought you might feel more comfortable if it was someone trustworthy so... yeah. That’s it. Go nuts.” He holds the small USB tightly, blinking with some shock.

“Thanks, Futaba”, he says quietly and she scoffs and waves a hand.

“Forget it. Hey, do you think we can hold hands with our feet with these socks on?”

“No”, he says immediately.

“Come _on_ ”, she twists on the spot, wiggling her toes towards his, “for science!”

They do it for science, and when she falls asleep with her mouth hanging open and a bag of chips on her lap he takes off her glasses for her and throws a blanket on her legs.

He goes straight to his laptop at the lounge seat by the wall and plugs the USB in.

**Media Darling to Missing In Action!**  
_Posted January 31st 2017 at 08:19 PM_

_ Written by Chihara Emi _

_ Just a few months ago Japan was obsessed with media darling, rookie detective Akechi Goro. Known as the second coming of the  Detective Prince , his ongoing feud with the elusive  Phantom Thieves was something for the books—but where did he go? We spoke to the original Detective Prince Naoto Shirogane for his opinion on the matter; _

_ “Akechi-kun is a respected friend of mine”, he told NewGroove magazine earlier this week. “Wherever he may be, I hope he is healthy and well.” _

_ Some speculate his disappearance corroborates with the ongoing conviction of former politician Masayoshi Shido, but claims have since been dismissed by officials at the prosecutors office.  _

**Awaiting The Chair  
** _Posted May 21st 2017 at 6:00 AM _

_ Written by Yamaichi Ryota _

_ As the case of Masayoshi Shido was been stretched to its barest, new information has been exposed in relation to teen detective Akechi Goro’s involvement with the former politician—rather, their relation as a whole. Our insider took us behind the scenes of the shocking discovery that happened during the trial that ran into yesterday night. _

_“It looked like the defence team was trying to stop him from saying anything”, they explained, “but out of nowhere he just started sobbing and yelling, saying he’d failed as a father and he had to do the right thing by him. No names were mentioned, but persecution seemed to know exactly who he was talking about.”_

_It has then since been discovered that this mystery son is none other than Akechi Goro, whose disappearance has been widely speculated since late last year. As his whereabouts is still unknown, and with the convicted having made it quite clear his son’s involvement with his crimes was nil, Akechi will not be further pursued for a testimony._

_ As of this morning, Masayoshi Shido awaits capital punishment which will undergo in weeks to come. _

** @1995ebi ** **:** _can’t believe akechi is that assholes son! talk abt a plot twist lol_

_ posted to Twitter on May 21st 2017 at 11:34 AM _

** Replies: **

** @tsuntsungo ** **:** _Makes you wonder how much his daddy helped him get in with the police and stuff lol_

 ** @anthr5 ** **:** _probably bribed his way into that school hah_

 ** @owaris ** **:** _[attached image of a Goro Akechi meme]_

**I saw goro akechi in fukuyama???**

_ Posted to Reddit thread  Where is Goro Akechi? by user  **itsmikamika** on August 12th 2018 at 09:54 AM _

_[A blurred photo is attached, taken sideways of a man walking away. He has medium length hair in a ponytail and seems to be carrying a grocery bag.]_

_so I was visiting my grandma in fukuyama b/c she got sick and my mom said I should spend time with her so we’re walking around the shops and talking when I notice this really tall guy with super long hair and so I try to look at his face and ???? It’s literally goro akechi_

_I freaked out but got a pic before he disappeared in the crowd but I could swear it was him, same face and hair colour and everything!! but what do I do?? do I have to tell the police now that I’ve seen a missing person?? are they going to arrest him?? his dad was that shido guy after all_

_tldr; saw goro akechi, do I tell the cops???_

**Comments:**

**ticktim19** **:** _ur photos blurry it doesn’t even look like him and y would u tell the cops? He didn’t do anything wrong. Dude probably just wants to get away from the media after what his dad did_

 ** > ich3ro ** **:** _the guilty run tho lol_

 ** > itsmikamika ** **:** _I swear it was him! He looked exactly the same_

 ** > ticktim19 ** **:** _then get a better pic_

**Top Ten Unsolved Disappearances!**  
_Posted June 15th 2020 at 03:02 PM_

_Written by Maya Degawa_

_Number 5: Former media darling Goro Akechi! The son of a corrupt politician and a former renowned rookie detective with an avid fan base—what happened to him? Where did he go? His last media appearance was in late 2016 but without warning, he disappeared off the face of the Earth leaving a saddened following. He would have been just 22 this June._

Ren reaches the final file, written just the other day.

** Remembering Lives Lost  
** _Posted May 18th 2023 at 12:17 PM_

_ Written by Hiroshi Dazai _

_ Two months from the anniversary of his death, we’ve decided to go back over the  gruelling case  of  Shido Masayoshi that lead to a change in Tokyo’s political society today. _

Shido Masayoshi was a respected runner for Prime Minister until he confessed to several counts of corruption, the death of well known Big Bang Burger CEO and countless other lives for his own political gain. He also pleaded guilty in accounts of the railway incidents linked to the  _ mental shutdown cases _ _of April 2016, claiming they weren’t mental shutdowns at all, but paid-off train drivers who caused the incidents_ _so he could sway the masses in his favour. In an unforeseen twist, it was revealed during his trial that teen prodigy_ _ Goro Akechi was his illegitimate son—Goro Akechi has not made any media or public appearances for some time. _

He exits out of the file and stares at his laptop screen for a long while. The background shuffles through the same six photos; a group shot of everyone at the beach, Sojiro and Futaba hugging either side of him on his graduation day, Ann squishing his face into a selfie and smudging their neon blue face-masks together, a selfie from down the line of a counter where Ryuji’s arm outstretched to catch Yusuke at the end with noodles hanging from his mouth. There’s a photo of Haru trying to dress Morgana in a bonnet, of a group hug around Makoto who holds an aikido medal in her hand, and one final photo of a begrudging Futaba on her own graduation day, Ren grinning proudly with his arms around her.

Ren opens his email.

** Recipients ** **:** _Sae Niijima, saeniijima@tpdlaw.com_

 ** From ** **:** _Ren Amamiya, renamamyia@outmail.com_

 ** Subject ** **:** _[No Subject]_

_ I’m sorry if this is inappropriate of me to ask but I wondered if you could do me a favour and pass along any information about Akechi you can. Maybe Shido mentioned him in his will? It’s not urgent and I understand if you’re busy or if you’re not allowed but I’d really appreciate it. Hope everything’s going well at the persecution office. _

_ Ren _

* * *

He stares a little miserably at the eggs the next morning, cracking them into the frying pan and half-listening to the news report coming from the lounge. 

_ “It’s 9 AM this lovely morning and traffic is steady along the south eastern highways. Expect some cloud coverage later today but sunny skies for the rest of the week!” _

He cut through the yolks with a spatula. His skin felt so greasy, and he needed to air out the apartment. He should probably give the walls a scrub. God, why did he feel so _tired?_ He glanced at the calendar on the fridge—he hadn’t changed it since last year. He was out of coffee, too, so he’d have to stop by Leblanc when he had the time. He stared at the eggs. He had so much time.

He jumped when the landline started ringing, leaving the pan for a moment to grab it and press it between his ear and shoulder, turning off the element and half-heartedly scooping the eggs into a bowl for Futaba to find when she finished with her shower.

“Hello?”

“Ren”, Sae greets, causing Ren to drop the spatula on his foot instead of in the sink, “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

“No, no—”, he rushes to pick up the utensil and put it aside, running a hand through his hair a little shakily, “it’s fine. Did you get my email?”

“I did”, she confirms, “I looked into what you said, the information was well under wraps, I’m surprised you didn’t enlist Futaba-chan in finding this for you.”

“You found something then?” He hears a shuffling of papers.

“Shido did leave his inheritance to someone in the event of his death”, she tells him, “However the name is redacted. In regards to property, a third party sold any real estate under Shido’s name and the profit was donated to several orphanages around Tokyo. There wasn’t much more than that, but I did find a mailing address linked to the bank account of the redacted name—I’ve texted it to you.” Ren lets out a little breath.

“Thank you. Really.”

“The address is in Tomonoura, so if you’re planning on going there you’ll have to train into Fukuyama and get an adjoining bus”, she pauses, some hesitancy in her next words. “I was under the impression that... well, with what Makoto told me...”

Ren listens to her sigh, and her voice sounds closer when she speaks again.

“Look, if you find him, could you give him my best? Let him know that although the world may have forgotten about him, we haven’t.” Ren nods to himself.

“I will. Have a good day, Niijima-san.”

“You too.”

He holds the phone against his chest, counting his breaths and gripping the counter. Redacted names, Tokyo orphanages, it had to be Goro.  


_ Right? _

Futaba comes out into the lounge with her hair dripping and a towel uselessly in her hand.

“Have you made breakfast yet?”

“Huh?” Ren shoves the phone down to the counter and blinks. “Oh, right. Eggs.” He points to the bowl and she flutters past him, opening the fridge with one hand and picking a piece of egg out with the other, shoving it in her mouth.

“Thanks”, she says, muffled and grabbing the out-of-date juice carton. “Who were you on the phone with?”

“Oh, just work”, he waves his hands in an awful nonchalance. “Nothing serious.” She snorts, grabbing a random mug off the standing rack and pouring the juice into it, he shuts the fridge for her, picks up the towel she dropped on his clean floor.

“Anytime you say _nothing serious_ I’m entitled to believe it’s something serious. Did you end up finding anything useful on that USB?”

“I haven’t looked over it yet”, he lies and she only shrugs.

“Well I left my councillors card on your bathroom mirror. I stuck it on with some eyelash glue Ann left here.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“You’re welcome”, she waves a hand and takes her eggs and her juice to the loungeroom, her clothes trailing on her like a heavy blanket and her hair dampening her back and then the sofa as she jumps down onto it. “Want to watch some more Featherman? I’ve gotta leave in, like, an hour.”

“Sure.”

He waits until she’s gone before booking a train ticket.

* * *

“When I said a holiday I was thinking somewhere cool like Rome or Australia. What’s in Fukuyama?”

“Nothing”, Ren balances the phone against his ear as he zips up his carry bag. “I just need to know if you can feed Morgana, he’s at Ryuji’s right now but he’ll probably make his rounds anyway. I just don’t want to leave any windows open but I don’t want to lock him in the apartment either.”

“It’s fine, I’ll let him know he can come spend the night.” He turns off the outlets in his bedroom. “Did you find someone to hook up with or something?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Kidding, kidding”, Ann laughs brightly. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I’m only leaving for a couple of days.”

“You can only last three days without water before you die”, she chirps.

“Bye, Ann.”

“Bye! Love you!”

(He wonders how long he can survive without thinking about Goro Akechi).

He locks his apartment door behind him and leaves the key above the frame.

* * *

From Shibuya, including delays, it takes a decent five hours for him to reach Fukuyama. The world passes by in mere blurs and sounds, and he can’t stop the tapping of his foot until a woman nearby shoots him a dirty look. From there it takes another half-hour to get to Tomonoura, and the bay comes into sparkling view in a way that makes Ren press his face closer to the window glass. The bus slows to a stop at a stand near a temple and he thanks the driver briskly, throwing his bag over his shoulder and watching as it drives away. Buildings clammer over each other, separated by warm streets and stone; the greenery of park and forest climbs high into hills and a tall mountain range. Some ways away, a structure stands at the waterfront. Ren finds himself distracted by the sea: the smell of salt is one that only evokes good memories.

Tomonoura reminded him of his own hometown, somewhat, not that it was anywhere near the water—but the mix of stone and quiet chatter reminded him of that something important. Maybe he should call his dad, even if he didn’t want anything to do with him. He must’ve turned fifty-something, or sixty last April, Ren isn’t sure. It was a thought, at least.

He turns his attention back to the water. Fishermen laugh with each other, comparing the catches of the day and bargaining with familiar tenor. Nearby, a woman chases after her son as he runs with a colourful, foil pinwheel: it blurs in the breeze.

Tomonoura is rich with peace.

As he travelled further into the town the view began to hold an overpowering sense of scale and omnipresence. Clouds kissed the mountains overhead but spared time to wallow with the sea—it was an indescribable feeling, but Ren felt no matter how long he’d spend in Tomonoura, he wouldn’t be able to think of anything to replicate what he felt now. Small and large. Hollow and abundant. Perhaps these were the conditions, the symptoms of love. To be so devoted to a dead man, or to death itself that he would run from comfort to even glimpse it. His therapist would tell him he was running from reality, dredging up old guilts and faliures because he was afraid of what successes might be in his future should he continue it. Self-sabotage.

Goro knew all about self-sabotage.

The shrine he wandered by was safely abandoned this late in the afternoon and the fire of nearby lanterns licked their way across the stone, creating loneliness, harbouring fleeting, flickering shadows that weren’t well enough alive to be thought of as company. Light was failing. The shrine was silent. Stores began to pack up and head home for the day and yet the sun held on just that little bit longer, so long in fact that Ren glanced at it: was the sun waiting for him to leave? He left a small offering in the shrine box and left, feet crunching against dead leaves. It was a stupid idea, coming here—

Ah, his body hummed, stopping in its place, listening to the footsteps of the man walking away; I know you. Ren turned his head, catching the tail end of the man’s tan coat. It was one he had seen before. His feet turned in place. Ah, his body remembered, that’s what we’re missing. This is the feeling of having a chain drag you by before you realise it’s attached to your ankle, and you have no choice but to go along with it, even if you want to hide. Nobody can hide forever.

If Ren thought back far enough, he could pinpoint the day Goro Akechi had first walked right past him, trailing Sae Niijima and completely unaware of how definitively fate had tied them both together. April, April where showers were meant to bring May flowers and where the year was almost half over but had barely even begun.

Ren supposed it was only natural that they were to meet this way again. He opens his mouth to call his name—

His own uncertainty surprises him. 

There’s a surreal corner of Ren Amamiya’s mind where Goro Akechi had stayed ever since the events of that third semester. A sharp, unloveable corner painted electric blue and undesirable in all but the inhabitants. It was his secret and it meant something different every time. For some time, it was just a place to go to feel; feel for this once-teenager who lived and died so briefly in his life and who he held, in both mind and reality, on a pedestal. A safe place, a buoy in the water, a trampoline beneath incomprehensible heights. Missing him was instinct at this point, and even if it is now an idealised mess of some version of the Goro Akechi he knew, he does miss him.

He has never stopped.

“Goro?”

The man’s head turns so sharply that it’s almost cruel. Where a polite expression should have been, Ren can tell general welcome has been surpassed by immediate recognition. The line of Goro’s mouth has frozen somewhere between a frown and gaping shock and his hand shakily raises to unstick hair from his lips as the wind hushes in from the bay again; his ponytail concedes defeat, slides from his shoulder and down to his back—Ren almost hates how it’s the only thing he can think of when a dead man is standing right in front of him.

“Ren.” Belated, Goro takes a step forward, his fingers tense around the plastic of his shopping bag. He feels awfully hopeful, watching Goro struggle with his own tongue, watching him take another step and then another. He’s close enough to touch when his lips move again: “How did...”

“Sae.” His mouth is too dry, and his hands keep fluttering between his bag straps and his pockets. “The money, from Shido’s will. There was a mailing address that lead here.”

“I see.” Ren watches Goro’s throat work, clicking around a swallow. He thinks they might both be breathing too fast and he hesitates to wonder if it’s fear or anticipation. Goro swallows again, blinking wide and blind at Ren as if he were a blank space. “I thought you would have grown taller.”

Ren’s mouth opens to laugh but stays half-hanging in an awkward, wide smile. He ducks his head, rubs the back of his head. “I grew two inches.”

“Oh, sorry.” And Goro does laugh, breathless. Ren looks up in time to catch the corner of his smile and his eyes—Ren wonders if Goro can see straight through him with those eyes. He draws into Goro’s space, close enough that their chests brush with every exhale and quiet enough that he can hear the single scuff of his shoe against the ground.

Goro’s bag hits the ground, first.

Ren practically sags against his shoulder, arms thrown around Goro’s neck and their feet shoving against each other. Goro’s own arms are tight around his waist, his hands warm and wide on his lower back and spine. 

“You’re actually here”, Goro says a little numbly, but his grip grows stronger. “Shit.” He pulls back completely and Ren fumbles to wipe his wet cheeks, the sun finally setting enough to shift room for the nighttime shade. Everything has become a monochrome blue but the lanterns of the shrine light the path gold, and Ren can only imagine how he must look to Goro now, who is caught between a frown and a grimace. He pulls up his shopping bag, setting a firm hand on Ren’s shoulder and steering them towards the shrine steps. “Let’s sit down, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Fair assumption”, Ren jokes weakly but let’s himself be sat at the moss-covered stone. “I’ll be fine, I just need a minute.” Goro doesn’t actually sit, but stays standing over him, face creased in displeasure and shoulders tense. “You look good”, Ren says, despite everything. He relaxes incrementally, his shoulders losing the tense height that had pitched up.

“You look tired”, the brunet replies, and then: “No glasses.” Ren touches his face self-consciously.

“They kept getting in the way. Did more harm than good, in the end.”

“I like it”, Goro stares at a fixed spot on his chest. “You. Without the glasses, I mean. You look good.” Ren smiles small.

“Thanks.” He tilts his head. “Sit with me?”

Goro does. Relief fills Ren’s fingertips and curls down into his toes. He’s here. He isn’t dead. Adulthood suits him well, the fine lines and signs of age, but he’s so shiny and new at the same time. He has a lifetime to come. To think there was a time where, for one night, Ren had begged him to stay, fear of the impending swamping any rational thought, fear of the future painting thoughts black—the future is here, it seems, and Goro Akechi is fine.

Ren doesn’t blame him for being dead, but he sort of wishes he could have played dead, too.

“What made you look after all this time?”, Goro asks eventually. “It’s been years.”

“I don’t know”, he replies in some stilted venture of honesty. The sea breeze brings a cold draft along the ground and he holds his arms around himself. “A lot of things.”

“Tell me.”

“Tell you—“, Ren huffs, ducking his face towards his knees and lacing his fingers behind his neck. “I don’t know”, he repeats. “A kid was in the operating theatre the other night, maybe 15. He got caught in the crossfire of a gang fight and ended up unconscious on some street in Shinjuku where people were just walking by like he was nothing. We got to him too late and he ended up dying of blood loss.” Ren sighs and rubs his eyes. “I thought of you, for some reason. Everything that happened... it just hit me all over again. Call it incentive to see if there was any trace of Goro Akechi left in the world, I don’t know, but even if I didn’t find you at least I could get away for a while.”

Ren can still feel the wheezing breaths of the child’s lungs under his hands. He had seemed so pale and cold under sterile lights; _how old had Futaba been when she was in the Metaverse with them? What kind of person was he to let a child go into a world like that?_ It’s not the first time he’s seen a child die, and he was uncomfortably aware that it wouldn’t be the last, but for some reason this time was different. This time it hurt.

“The operating theatre”, Goro says slowly. “You’re a doctor?”

“A nurse”, Ren corrects.

“That must have been a tough experience.” Their knees knock together, and Ren wonders if this is Goro’s quiet way of reaching out. It could be. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.

“It happens every day.”

“You’re not reminded of a traumatic experience every day.”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?”

Goro frowns at him, disapproval clear in his jaw. “Ren...”

“Sorry. I’m kind of—I can’t believe you’re here.” He’s shaking as he runs his hand through his hair again. “There’s more.”

“Tell me.”

“I never forgot you.” It’s like unplugging the drain in a full bath, he can’t stop the rushing mess now but at least it won’t overflow. “I never stopped wondering what happened. Wondering about what did happen. For a long time I regretted not taking up Maruki on his fucking deal and—” Ren covers his own mouth, fingertips pressed white against his lips as if to take back the words. Goro looks close to exhausted, the dimples in his cheeks don’t look so appealing in a frown and Ren gets the sense that this might be what solidarity is. What empathy and understanding looks like. “I don’t really know why this week of all weeks was the one that lead me here”, he says, swallowing. “But I’m glad it did.”

Goro looks away, a jolt that looks far too unnatural to be anything but reluctant. He stares at the ground, tucks his fringe behind his ear as the wind blows it loose.

“I’m glad it did, too.”

They settle more comfortably beside each other.

“How long have you been here?”

“Oh”, Goro’s eyes dart to somewhere higher, remembering. The light of a nearby lantern casts a familiar shadow on his face. “Since... everything.”

“That long?”

Goro nods. Ren noticed that he doesn’t sit the same way he used to. Where, should need be, he could jump right out from where he was sitting and run. “I grew up here when I was very young, you see.”

Goro sits like he has a reason to stay.

“I’m sorry”, Goro begins, “that I never told you of my whereabouts. It was quite selfish of me.”

“You needed to be selfish”, Ren replies. “I get it, I do.”

“I hope you were at least a little selfish after all of that. You’re the most horribly selfless person I’ve ever met—you wouldn’t know what to do with your ego if it hit you in the face. How did you manage?”

“I just made sure everyone else was okay.”

“And who asked you if you were okay?”

“My therapist, now.” Ren goes to gives him a smile but it weans, sensing the serious nature of the conversation. “It doesn’t matter, Goro. Really. It’s in the past.”

“It still matters”, Goro insists, and for a brief second his hand hesitates between them before settling back into his lap. “Are you okay?”

“I’m better than I was.” He says it with the gentle confidence that can only come from truth. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m very confused right now, things overwhelm me a little more than they used to, but I’m... I’m not bad. That’s all I can ask for. How about you? Are you happy?”

“I am.” Goro’s voice is soft. Ren laughs shyly.

“Then I’m glad. How—“

“It’s getting quite late”, Goro interrupts. “I’m not sure I could offer anything up to par with Leblanc, but I’m confident in at least a warm meal and bed for the night. You didn’t book a room anywhere, did you?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good”, he stands a little too quickly. “Come on, the milk I bought is probably lukewarm by now.”

“You’re letting me stay the night?”

“Don’t make me take back my offer.”

The moon follows them to a quieter district, shrouded by trees. It’s one of the only bright lights along the way.

Goro leads them further into the hills and up a curved, stone stair path revealing rectangular houses. He stops them at a gate Ren would have completely missed if he’d been here on his own and unlatches it open. It is a hidden home with two stories and the paint, although chipping, is still a bright yellow on one side.

Goro tilts his head, already at the front door. “Are you coming?” Ren’s mouth is dry.

“Yeah.” He licks his lips, doesn’t move. “Yeah.”

The entryway is sparsely decorated with a mirror and set of drawers. There’s mail there, scratches engrained in the wood from where keys had been thrown—Ren watches him throw them. Goro tucks his shoes away and waves Ren in further, placing his shopping bag on the kitchen counter and excusing himself upstairs to get changed.

Ren was expecting an apartment, even a house, what he hadn’t been prepared for was a home. He hesitates and sits himself at the breakfast bar. By the salt and pepper grinders, there’s a small wooden hedgehog with many holes in its back: filling the holes are toothpicks. Two or three are missing.

Ren sort of hates it.

The fridge is covered in memorabilia, surprisingly. Magnets from places all around Japan and beyond, a grocery list and a to-do sticky note, photos both glossy and old. One by apalm tree magnet catches Ren’s eye: a young Goro and a boy are sitting at what looks like a kitchen counter, there’s glasses of chocolate milk in front of them and Goro is leaning against the younger boy, beaming for the camera. His hair is long, fringe split in the middle and he wears a purple shirt with a black trim. The boy beside him is blonde and smiling wide but there are no teeth to be seen: he has milk dripping on his chin. There’s tall wooden cabinets behind them but nothing else—the photographer seemed to have used flash.

“That’s a cousin of mine”, Goro glides into the kitchen. Ren hadn’t even heard him on the stairs. “My mother and aunt had gone out for the night so we were left at my grandparents.”

“Are you still in touch?”

“No, not for a very long time. It’s a nice memory, though.” He’s pulled out a wooden chopping board and a knife, flicking off the rice cooker that had already been bubbling in the corner. “Could you put the milk away?”

Ren does, crumpling up the receipt and bag just as his eyes catch another photo.

“I like this one.” Goro glances over and scoffs. A rhythmic thrumming begins as his knife cuts through a handful of small onions.

“Of course you would.”

The photo is of Goro as a toddler. In the background there is a white but yellowing fridge from the early 2000s and the corner of a kitchen counter; on it is an empty chip bag, an empty scotch glass and a teething toy. In the foreground, sat at a wooden table in a navy singlet with three flowers on it, is Goro with curly hair around his ears and straighter, more controlled bangs, but with his face crying and covered in chocolate spread. On the table is an empty jar and beside it a spoon. His fingers are mucky, too.

“Have you always had these photos?”, Ren asks; he leans away from them for now, leaning on the counter instead and watching Goro reach for an already hot pan. He throws the onion in with a sizzle and tosses it gently before moving on to two sizeable capsicum at his side.

“My mother kept an album”, he says. “I’ve always thought there was no point in taking photos if you were just going to hide them.” Ren thinks of Goro Akechi’s Instagram, the one that’s been left untouched for years but has maintained a hefty following. The capsicum is finely sliced and thrown into the pan as well, the seeds and stem discarded in the bin. Goro pulls a fork out from a higher drawer and moves to the rice, making to fluff it.

“You should take more”, Ren blurts. “New photos. Add to the collection.” Goro raises an eyebrow.

“Of what?”

“I don’t know, you live in a pretty photogenic place if you haven’t already noticed. Take photos of the beach, the boats, your feet in the sand—”

“Isn’t it a little strange to frame photos of yourself around your own home?”

“You’re already on the fridge”, Ren points out and Goro smiles a little.

“Alright. Will you take one for me, then?”

Ren blinks. “What, _now?_ ”

“My phone’s just over there.”

Goro holds still while Ren fumbles to get his phone and flick to the camera app, he’s shaking a little but the camera adjusts and, through the lens, Goro is glowing.

“Smile”, Ren says, and Goro does.

The photo shows him from the waist up. His sweater looks worn but warm, and there’s the glint of a necklace chain around the collar. The rice cooker is steaming, and the fork in his hand shines, and the edge of the sink that sneaks into view shines with it. The pan is front and center but it’s clear the focus of the photo is Goro. You can see both of his dimples, and a little bit of his teeth, and the baby hairs around his ears and neck curl from the guessed humidity of the kitchen. The rest of his hair is tied back into a bun.

“One for the fridge”, Ren says, still staring at it. Goro shakes his head and goes back to preparing the meal. The rice is left alone as he returns to the pan, tossing the vegetables again and drizzling something dark into the mix. It smells sweet. Ren spies a short, dark scar on Goro’s thumb.

“Cooking endeavour?”, he asks, gesturing to his own hand. Goro glances at it.

“A very hot pan, yes. We can’t all be great cooks.”

“Ouch.”

Goro shrugs. “They’re nothing compared to what Shido’s ship left.”

“You mean—”

“Yes. Don’t worry, it doesn’t bother me. They’re just..”, he waves his hand vaguely, “there. At least I assume it was from Shido’s ship. I’m not entirely sure what the events of my being here are, and I’m sure I won’t ever know.” He shrugs. “Perhaps it’s better left untouched.”

“Maybe.” Ren pauses. “You’re so different.”

“In a bad way?”

“Not at all.”

It’s in a way that makes sense, Ren thinks, and Goro crinkles a smile but hides it as he turns.

“You said you grew two inches taller, didn’t you? There’s bowls up there in the top cupboard.”

They sit across from each other at the coffee table in the lounge. Goro hands him a pair of chopsticks and turns the TV on low. There’s a wind chime outside through the sliding door that leads to the backyard where a washing line with a few towels is. Their feet bump.

“Is it okay?”, Goro asks, mistaking his silence for displeasure. It’s more than okay, even if Ren is a little biased. The peppers are sticky with caramelisation and the onion sweetens the rice nicely. It’s simple, but filling.

“It’s great”, Ren says, “thank you for having me.”

“It’s no problem.” Goro picks at his own food. “I... I should thank you, actually.”

“Why?” Goro looks up at him through his fringe.

“You didn’t give up on me. That’s more than I could have ever asked for, I think. That’s more than I ever deserved, after what I’ve done to you. I’m incredibly thankful so please just accept my thanks. I’d feel a lot better if you did.”

Ren softens, nods. Goro nods too and focuses down at his meal.

“Good.”

As they finish eating and after Ren gets over the shock of Goro being a self-confessed soap opera fanatic, Goro coaxes Ren into telling him stories of his more wackier patients. Laughter loosens their shoulders and eventually Ren is shrugging off his hoodie to further explain the case of the caped thief who broke his foot attempting to break into a vet clinic and get his ex-girlfriends rat as revenge. Goro snorts into his drink and Ren is only fuelled into the drama, the sleeves of his hoodie tied around his neck and his hand bowed against his forehead in an imitation of the pain.

Goro says: “Smile.” And Ren does.

His cheeks are flushed. The weather report is behind him. His bowl is empty and he was obviously caught mid action but he grinned anyway, beaming as best as he could. Goro stares at the photo with an expression Ren can’t name.

“One for the fridge?” Ren prods. Goro smiles and shakes his head, setting the phone down.

“We’ll see. It’s getting late, do you want to turn in?”

“I will if you are.” 

“I’ll go set up your room, then.” He stands, stacking their bowls and chopsticks and discarding them to the sink. “Feel free to use the bathroom, there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink.”

“Thanks.”

He disappears upstairs. Ren is left with the news as his company.

_ “Sunshine for the rest of the week—” _

It’s endearing, how many hair clips and ties he finds scattered around Goro’s bathroom, but it’s when he’s brushing his teeth he notices the photo taped to the large mirror.

It must be his mother, if looks are to go by. Her hair is wild and dark and the jeans she’s wearing are high waisted, tightened with a belt but loose around her legs. She’s in a black blouse and her lips are red, hands in front of her and holding a small purse. She’s leaning against a kitchen sink—

_The one downstairs_ , Ren recognises.

She seems to only be smiling out of courtesy.

“Ren”, Goro calls, “room’s ready.”

He spits and rinses quickly, practically bumping into Goro in the hall. He’s dressed down to his pyjamas, soft plaid pants and a red jumper, and he offers a handful of clothes to Ren. Ren takes it and realises with some dread that Goro’s let his hair loose, and that he very much wants to touch it.

“My room’s just at the end of the hall if you need anything else.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Goro’s looking at him again. It makes him nervous, the way his old teammate stares. It’s like a leash clicking in place, a whispered come here—it’s inescapable.

“What are you looking for?”, Ren asks. It catches Goro off-guard and he smiles, pleased.

“Nothing. Sleep well, Ren.”

His bedroom door shuts soundlessly and Ren can breathe again.

Laying in the guest bed, the walls seem like towers of sun-caught buildings. The orange colour is bright, erring on yellows and pale tangerine, and Ren turns his head to avoiding them. The room is small, the window is small, and the marks that line the space of wall below the light switch look as though someone’s tried to smudge them away.

_Height lines_ , Ren realises dumbly. Height lines written in pencil that stopped abruptly at age 7.

He sleeps facing them.  
  


* * *

It was only natural that in Ren’s dreams, Goro Akechi thrived.

In this particular one, the sun is groggy on the horizon, pinks and pale yellows bloom over the sky and fall on the deaf ears of an early morning. Ren lays back on wet sand. He feels too dense, like even the touch of the waves rolling against his feet will cause him to crumble. His ears are ringing, his chest rising and falling quickly— _had he been running?_

Suddenly, Goro stands over him, blocking the sun. His lips are stretched into a thin smile.

Ren wakes to the sound of the T.V. downstairs.

“Your clothes are in the dryer”, Goro says from the stove, looking up as he lingers at the end of the staircase. “Sit down, breakfast will be a few more minutes.”

He’s dressed nice today, reflective of the weather outside. A black turtle neck rolled up at the elbows as he ladles a crepe mixture into a waiting pan, his hair braided back, necklace sitting on his chest. He’s dressed very nice, Ren thinks, and he’s very aware of the fact that he repeats it another two times.

“You okay?”, Goro asks, giving him a short look.

“Yeah”, Ren forces himself to move. “Want me to make coffee?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Back to back, in a kitchen that’s seen a lifetime, Ren feels at home.

* * *

They waste too much time bickering over breakfast that by the time they’re out of the house, it’s the afternoon and Ren’s clothes have been suitably wrinkled by the dryer. Goro audibly laments his train ticket pre-booked for tomorrow and Ren pretends not to be pleased.

The post office is small and hidden between the shade of two jacaranda trees in bloom. Ren catches a petal mid air and Goro seals a large envelope with a quick swipe of his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”, he comments. “Doesn’t this place just make you want to stay here forever?” The petal is bright purple and curls in his palm, Ren lets it fall.

“Something like that”, he replies. “What’s in the envelope?”

“I told you I help out a friend in the city from time to time.”

“Is it a murder? Tax fraud?”

“A theft.” Goro’s cheeks are as raspberry red as his coat and Ren feels warm in his clothes as they both duck into the small building. 

“Need a plucky assistant?”

“No.”

“Not even for a day?”

The look Goro sends him boarders dangerously on fond.

“I’m not sure freelance detective work is your field of expertise, Nurse Amamiya.”

“Don’t make fun of my career.”

“If it’s any consolation, being a nurse is very you.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” The line in front of them finally splits and Goro hands his envelope over to the man at the counter, who stamps it off several times and gives it back to Goro to put in the mailing box outside. They round to the waterfront when it’s done, and the bus that had dropped Ren off passes by. The sea distracts him again, his feet unintentionally steering them towards the pier. Goro doesn’t seem to mind and at least makes sure they stay on the path.

“I used to try and catch the smaller fish in my hands as a child”, he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear smoothly; Ren watches the action with some devotion. “Then again, I’d also poke their eyes in the market when I thought my mother wasn’t looking.”

“Is that our next errand?”

“No.” Goro offers a vaguely amused expression. “Not unless you’d like to get wet from the knee down.”

Ren doesn’t grace that with a response. They walk in tandem along the pier for a short while. Above them, the sky looks a brilliant blue and grey-violet clouds frame the horizon.

“Has the house always been in your family?”, Ren asks. Goro nods.

“As far as I’m aware, yes.”

“And no one on your mother’s side tried to contact you? Check if you’re here?”

“They were happy to leave me bouncing between foster homes. Do you really think they’d want anything to do with me?”

“Right. Sorry.” Goro shakes his head and waves a hand, dismissing the words as if they were in the air.

“You’re alright. It’s a fair enough question since I keep so many pictures of them around.”

“Why do you? other than the whole _pictures shouldn’t be in an album_ thing.”

The wind brushes them softly from the shore.

“Company”, Goro decides. “When you’re lonely, all you have are memories to fall back on. Mine have never been all that favourable... but there are those few. The grocery store is just up here.” Ren follows him.

“Didn’t you just go yesterday?”

“I wasn’t anticipating you yesterday. Come on.”

The mechanical bell above the doorway drones twice as they enter and Goro picks up a yellow basket, sending a bright greeting to the old lady at the register.

“Some of the people have lived here since I was born”, Ren is told as he’s lead through the flour aisle. “When I left Tokyo, it was like suddenly being known so well but in a different capacity. It’s a comfort that I missed.”

“Everyone knows everyone”, Ren surmises. 

“Pretty much.” Things are piled into the basket. “I’ll be a minute, I just need to ask if she’s got any cardamom in. Don’t knock anything over.”

“Yessir.”

Goro rolls his eyes and walks away. Ren busies himself to the tourism shelf. It’s all a little much, he thinks as he fiddles with a snow-globe of the bay. He wasn’t anticipating how badly he’d want to stay—then again, he wasn’t anticipating Goro at all. It had felt like benign hope, or some kind of dream. A way to escape. He puts the globe down and pinches his hand once.

“Anything you need before we go?”

Ren turns to Goro and holds up a souvenir keychain of a fish with his name on it.

“This.”

Goro slowly takes the fish. It’s a lilac colour and his name is in bold, glittery red.

“It’s very tacky.”

“ _You’re_ very tacky. Buy it for me.”

Goro sighs and takes the fish with him to the cash register. 

Ren’s holding it up to the sky when he asks Goro if he ever gets recognised.

“On occasion”, he replies, tucking away his wallet. “There’s community circles, some of whom know my identity but don’t care. Tourists always keep the place busy, though it’s very rare that I get recognised. No one remembers Goro Akechi anymore, and so they shouldn’t”, he adds.

“There’s still people out there wondering.” Goro shrugs the words off.

“There will always be more important things to wonder about. Look there, the best of Mount Ushiroyama can be seen from here.”

“I saw it on my way into town”, Ren shakes his head, “don’t distract me. You’re an important thing. You’re important to _me_.”

Goro slows them to a stop, looking more troubled than he had before. The weight of the keychain is like a brick in Ren’s hand.

“... It’s embarrassing but I thought I’d never hear something like that. Back then I wasn’t even really sure I’d have a future.” Goro looks away. “I was tired of thinking, of dread. It kept me up for so many years, so when I finally had the chance I just ran. I was afraid and I ran away. Made my own future. It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done in my whole life”, he pauses, “next to this, now.”

“Why now?”

“Now changes everything, Ren”, his features favour no expression, his stare flat and pinpricking. “What we do next changes both our lives. Why did you come?”

“What?”

“I need you to explain to me why you came”, he repeats. “I need you to be clear with me. I need... I need lines drawn. Intentions known. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, but...”

“What are you looking for?”

Ren looks at Goro in surprise. He’s still staring. “You used to get that look on your face a lot. What are you looking for?”

_This place does make me want to stay forever,_ Ren thinks with a dry mouth. “It’s hard to explain”, Ren swallows. “I told you about the kid, how he reminded me of you, but... I didn’t come here with a plan. I wasn’t expecting to find you.”

“What were you expecting to find?”

“Nobody.” The word tastes empty. “Somewhere to hide, maybe. Somewhere to run, like you.”

“How would you have felt if I wasn’t here?”

Ren feels familiar pain twinge in his gut. His teeth ache in his jaw.

“Like I’d lost you again.” Goro nods once and crosses his arms, almost protectively, around himself.

“I wasn’t completely over what Shido did to me back then”, he begins thoughtfully. “All I ever wanted in my life was to feel some control—something that was taken away from me again in that world. I was angry, I was more than that—I wanted to tear myself apart. I was hurting and I had to leave. What we had, Ren...”, Goro gives him a surprisingly open look. “It wouldn’t have survived if I stayed. I am sorry I wasn’t there for you, I regret that I couldn’t have been, but I would have hurt the both of us, and I didn’t want to do that.”

Ren looks away, back to the bay.

“We’re here now”, he says quietly. Goro watches him attentively.

“We are”, he agrees, just as soft.

“What did we have?”

Goro hesitates. “I was very confused for a long time about what it was. I’d never felt something so strong that wasn’t hate, so that’s the only thing I thought it could be. We’re so alike, you and I—even now. You’ve run to the same place I did to get away from the world.” His lips purse. “I suppose it was friendship with some sort of complicated affection in between. Rivalry and infatuation. I wouldn’t know what to call it.”

“You wouldn’t call it love?”

“I would”, Goro says without hesitation, “but the only love I’ve ever known has been corrupt. You’ll forgive me if my view is still somewhat jaded.”

“It’s fine. Can I at least say something?”

“Go ahead.”

“A relationship wasn’t really on my mind back then”, Ren fiddles with the souvenir in his hand. “I had chances, people who liked me, I knew what to say if I wanted to get something out of them, knew how to help them when they needed help... but you never asked me to help you. You were just my friend, and then my teammate, and then—“, he winces. “In that world, I realised what I felt for you can’t have just been friendship. I was in awe of you constantly. I wanted to be with you every spare chance I had—I looked for you when you weren’t there.” He looks at Goro. “I get why you didn’t come back, or tell anyone you were alive, I really do, and I’m not angry about it.”

“But?”

Ren shakes his head. “That’s it.” Goro frowns.

“You haven’t changed at all, and yet you’ve grown into a completely different person that I admire all over again.”

“So have you.”

He smiles weakly but doesn’t disagree, turning away from the bay. “Come on, there’s not a lot of time left in the day and your train leaves early tomorrow.”

“Do I get to know what we’re doing yet?”

“I’m making you a cake.”

“What, why?”

Goro gives him the most dubious look.

“It’s your birthday. May 22nd.” Ren blinks.

“Oh, shit. You’re right.”

Goro snorts and grabs his hand, pulling him along the way home. “We’re _celebrating_ , Ren”, he calls into the air, steps practiced up the stairway home. “You’re 24 years old now, you could at least smile!”

* * *

Ren watches as Goro whisks the wet ingredients in with the dry. His hair is clipped back and his sleeves are rolled up, and Ren had the ridiculous pleasure of learning how meticulous Goro became when he baked ( _“Baking is a science, Ren. I can do science.”_ ). The preheating oven warms his toes and he spies a few unread messages on his phone when Goro asks him to check the recipe again.

**futaba:** _where the fuck are you????_

**futaba:** _we planned a surprise party but surprise you’re not here??????????_

**futaba:** _we had to find out from ann who forgot that u went on a holiday???_

**futaba:** _why the hell are you in tomonoura_

“You were right, it was a quarter cup”, he says and scrolls through similar messages from Ann. “It looks like I’ve skipped out on my own birthday party.”

“Pity”, Goro comments, running the spatula along the wall of the mixing bowl and tipping the contents into a waiting pan. “They can have you next year.”

Ren feels his face warm. He sets his phone face-down and reaches his hand for the utensil, wriggling his fingers. Goro passes it to him and takes the bowl to the sink; Ren licks at the raw batter.

Honey and cardamom—of course. Flavours of home and of hearth, a reprieve from the sea wind outside that tastes warm and steady, like a drizzle of summer rain. Like a window into something quiet from Goro’s past. Like a secret.

“Mmh, ‘s good.”

“Like it?” 

“Love it.” Goro looks up at him with a smile, moving to say something but pauses, reaching for his phone. “Hold still.”

Ren does. The camera shutter goes off.

“Do I look good?”, he asks, and Goro just laughs, setting his phone down before Ren can see it. He turns to place the cake in the oven.

“What will you tell the others?”

“What do you want me to tell them?”

“I’m not opposed to them knowing I’m alive”,Goro twists the oven timer. “However I’ve come to enjoy the privacy of my life. That must be unfair of me to say.”

“It’s not”, Ren waves the spatula in his direction. “You’ve been through a lot.”

Goro takes it and puts it in the sink. “If I want to be in your life it’s inevitable that our paths will cross again. I’ll leave the decision in your hands.” 

Ren scratches his neck, dumbfounded.

“I’ll reply later, then. Tell me more about your cooking endeavours. I want to know about every burnt thing you’ve ever made, starting from the beginning.”

“I started too ambitious, I must admit”, Goro sighs, meeting Ren halfway by leaning on the counter. “I attempted to cook my way through the entirety of a French-American cookbook from the 60s.”

_ “Goro .” _

When the cake is done and frosted, Goro sticks a single gold glittery candle in the center and sets his phone camera on Ren, smiling bright.

“Make a wish”, he says, and Ren does.

* * *

They brush their teeth side by side tonight. Goro rolls his eyes when Ren nudges their elbows together but retaliates nonetheless—toothpaste is splattered everywhere and Goro’s laugh unapologetic. He untangles his braid, washes his face, casually talks Ren through what time would be best to leave in the morning, Ren sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His pyjamas are more loose, tonight. A plain t-shirt and briefs that seem a little big. Ren can see the edge of an old, healed burn curling up his thigh but Goro really doesn’t seem to mind. He complains about Ren’s skin, how he doesn’t have to work a day in his life for it to be how it is, and he pokes his cheek.

Ren catches it. Keeps him there. Goro looks like he was expecting that, and draws close with a hesitant kind of confidence easily misconstrued as fear. 

Goro hugs him. A swooping, wayward hug around his neck and shoulders that almost has Ren toppling backwards into the tub.

“Happy birthday.” Ren grips him tight, pushes his face against Goro’s stomach and chest. There’s safety in this kind of submission, one that speaks volumes of trust, one not easily broken, but easily shattered nonetheless.

His heart thuds in his hands.

“Ren”, Goro says softly, coaxing him to look up. “I want to kiss you.” The revelation of the words are tremendous and unsteady. It feels pretty to hear, Ren wonders if it’s prettier to say.

“Kiss me”, he says with clumsy lips.

Goro says his name. Over and over again he says it, like it means something more than it is. Like even if there are so many things he can’t say to him right now, he can say this. Ren, Ren, Ren. Ren hides that sound in the back of his mind. He doesn’t know lavish things, about gold and delicacies, but he knows how he felt when Sojiro Sakura brought out a stack of adoption papers. He knows how it felt to not only graduate high school, but medical school too. He knows the flavour of his favourite ice cream and he remembers what it was like to see Goro all over again for the first time. He knows what honey cake tastes like. The sound of Goro’s voice, saying his name, it’s a little like all of that.

Their kiss is desperate and Ren is forced to stumble up. Goro’s hands grab at his sides and pull him close, closer even, and pull him all the way to Goro’s bedroom. It hurts to have his knees knock the bed but Ren feels too warm in Goro’s lap to care; he leans in, the man’s hands splayed wide on his back and their chests beating against each other. Goro holds him so tightly, so fearfully, that he feels his spine could snap in two. Goro’s head hits the mattress, the weight of them both depressing the springs. A wet kiss. Hot fingers beneath the leg of his briefs, sliding them further up his thigh and knocking the breath right out of him.

Ren thinks he might be fire. 

It’s his own sharp intake he hears when Goro ruts up against him. Moonlight is a soft indigo source that paints everything a blue but his eyesight is too bleary to notice. His thighs twitch either side of Goro’s hips—Ren thinks he might be burning. There’s a sense of haste in every corner of the room. As they kiss, he can feel himself shaking, pressing his legs together and inadvertently grinding up against Goro again. His chest gives out to something guttural, hands making to remove Ren’s underwear.

Ren is willing, god is he willing, but the unexpected need for a safety net catches him off guard. He suddenly understands what Goro meant earlier that afternoon. _Intentions_. He needs Goro to know what he was trying to say when he said what he did. He needs to find some words. He needs to stop.

“Can we slow down?”, comes out of his mouth, whisper quiet. It’s someone else’s voice, someone Ren has gotten to know quite well these past few years, but it’s Goro’s hands that split them apart. Ren imagines, from somewhere else, the dark curve of his body over Goro’s might have sent a different kind of message, but Goro only wraps his arms fully around Ren’s lower back and lays him down. The breaths they take resist against each other, and Ren is acutely aware of how bony his chin must feel on Goro’s chest. He listens to his heart. He’s waited for this heart, this heart that beats in time with his own. He’s waited and now he’s a little unsure of what to do with it.

Goro distracts him. He tangles their fingers together from where Ren was twisting Goro’s shirt and stretches their arms outwards, towards the wall and window. In the dark and in shadow, their fingers create strange creatures and shapes on the wall, and then Goro is pulling his hand to his mouth and leaving a kiss there. He sets a firmer one on the deep curve in his palm and stays there, with his eyes closed, with his heartbeat throbbing.

“I want you to kiss me again.” Ren twitches his fingers in Goro’s grasp just to tap his lips. A fleeting thought. “But I don’t want you to kiss me like I’m going tomorrow.”

“You _are_.” Goro’s voice cracks.

“I’m coming back”, Ren promises, rises from the embrace, finds a different kind of strength to hold Goro’s hand tight. “I’m always going to come back for you.”

It gets a reaction, an odd one that refuses to settle; a cracking tension that feels too close to pain, too close to what they were before. But they aren’t kids anymore. Their lives aren’t in jeopardy. They’re awake, alive, and heat coils in Ren’s throat.

“I want you”, he says. “Kiss me because you want me, too.”

Goro reaches up with his free hand and lingers at Ren’s cheek. Where their hands are connected, his heart faintly beats. He runs his fingertip down the bridge of Ren’s nose.

“I might owe you a lifetime of those”, he says, and kisses Ren deep.

Ren’s thighs shake at the sensation and he falls forward. Gravity offers a tender and easy space between them—there is no need to rush. There is something so special, something so specific about the way Goro feels against him, and Ren realises a little distantly that the high keening sound happening belongs to him. But he can only grip Goro tighter. There’s a heat in his stomach that spikes excitedly— _this is where I’m meant to be. This is where I’m meant to be._

Because Ren is coming back.

Their kisses grow more steadily, the two pulling away to throw Goro’s shirt aside. His hair threatens to knot in Ren’s grasp, but that only entices him further. Through briefs they grind against each other and Goro throws his head back with a silent gasp.

“This is how I always thought of you.” Ren’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth. He pulls his fingers through Goro’s hair again, gentle even when they catch. “Nobody else around“, he swallows, presses a small kiss to the height of Goro’s cheekbone. “Just here”, he says, “with me.”

“I’m here”, Goro replies, jaw working, throat flush. His voice is in her ear, more intimate than a mere sound should be, and the movement of his body, the enfold of his embrace, feels like nothing more than cool drops of rain. “I’m right here”, Goro tells him.

Ren slides his own underwear off. They’re flicked away by his foot and Goro’s own are shimmied down the bed. The weight of Goro’s cock in his hand is something he’s thought of before, albeit guiltily. Nineteen, Ren thinks, leaning his mouth over the tip. On his twenty-first, when he hooked up with one of Makoto’s school friends. Seventeen. Eighteen. Twenty-two in a dream that left him shaky. Goro tugs at his hair as he takes him into his throat. He remembers a particularly shameful time with a glove. Goro doesn’t need to know about the glove right now. 

(It’s in Ren’s carry bag.)

Ren wants Goro in him more than he can stand.

He sinks down onto his cock too quick to be comfortable but the stretch is good. His clit gives out a sensitive pulse and he braces his hands on Goro’s chest, enjoying the hazy way the man is looking up at him, holding loose onto his wrists. Ren leans down as best as he can and kisses him, Goro’s hands migrating to his hair, lips wet, a breath between them as Ren grinds slowly.

“Come on”, Goro whispers against his lips, “come on, that’s it.” Goro crowds him closer, Ren’s head bowed and tucked against his neck. Goro’s knees raise, his hips give a shallow thrust. Ren gasps. “You’re so good for me.” 

He thinks of the bullet wound on Goro’s shoulder, of old burns and cooking scars and of manicured nails as he rides him. Eyes never leaving him. A framed poster on the wall. A half-drunk glass of water on the dresser. An old CD player.

“You’re so good”, Goro whispers, and he whimpers as Goro thrusts up to meet him. “You’re so good.”

* * *

His lover drinks his coffee black and he drinks it in bed, in his Featherman t-shirt, propped up by pillows and reading the morning news. Ren smothers a kiss against his temple, skewing those reading glasses out of place and pulling away just enough to catch the end of Goro’s wide smile.

He learns about the flower shop Goro orders from over breakfast. The new bouquet on the kitchen counter consists of blue hydrangeas and fern leaves, verbena and something Goro says might have been called golden dewdrop. Ren hasn’t heard of it, and Goro says (with his elbows deep in bubbly dish water) that last week it had been a dozen yellow roses, because he liked how they lit up the house.

He fixes Ren with his own coffee and goes about early morning chores with in a rhythm—half listening to the T.V. and half talking to Ren about anything and everything he can think of. He dries forks, sets aside a portion of cake for Ren to take home, fiddles with the new photos on the fridge and cuts himself off to fix Ren’s collar, lingering in his space and flattening the corner more times than necessary. 

He only realised he was staring when Goro smiled at him, a warm expression visible only by the crinkle of crows feet.“What are you looking for?”, he teases.

Ren let go of his coffee abruptly, hand red from the heat. He wasn’t ready to miss Goro this much.

Goro smelled faintly of shampoo and the vanilla-orchid soap he used. He nudged his way between Ren’s legs and draped his arms around his neck, smile enticing. Ren placed his hands on Goro’s thighs but said nothing. 

His train would be leaving soon. They’d have to hurry if they wanted a decent goodbye at the station. Goro certainly wasn’t going out in that Featherman shirt and wavy, crooked pigtails.

But maybe he would, if Ren asked.

Goro combs his fringe back with his fingers and presses a kiss there, Ren’s eyelids fluttering down, cheek pressing against Goro’s stomach. Just like upstairs, when Goro’s mouth had tasted of toothpaste and his skin had smelt sweet like apricots.

“You know where to find me now”, Ren hears him say, fingers running through his hair again. Over and over. “You can come visit any time you want.”

“Who are you reminding?”, Ren asks and Goro gives a sort, sad sort of smile, nestling another kiss to the top of Ren’s head before pulling away.

“Let me get changed and then we’ll go. Tie your shoes.”

Ren feels like everything in his life has lead him here. He washes his mug, lingers around the room. The toothpick hedgehog, the laundry line outside that’s now empty, the photos on the fridge where his own smiling face is now at eye-height. This must be what it’s like to feel so confident, so safe in where and who you are that the future doesn’t matter—because your future is here.

Goro comes down the stairs only a few minutes later, hair falling on his shoulders and down his back, keys in hand. His jeans are casual, and form fitting, and it’s Ren’s hoodie he is wearing.

Oh, Ren’s in love. He’s in love, _he’s in love._

“You still haven’t tied your shoes”, Goro points out, picking up Ren’s bag for him. “Come on, I don’t want you to be late. If there’s traffic you’re going to have to wait another hour.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Goro scoffs but a pleased flush paints his cheeks. Ren stands clumsily and just tucks the laces into his ankles, leaning forward to press a kiss to Goro’s cheek. Goro tangles their fingers.

“Ready?”, he asks.

_You make this place so hard to leave._

“Ready”, Ren says.

* * *

“You should come back for the fireworks festival on the 27th”, Goro tells him, fiddling with Ren’s jacket buttons. “It’s quite a sight to see.”

On the car ride over Ren had commandeered the radio, and very quickly switched to his own repertoire when he realised every station was the monotonous drone of news reports. He played _Lovefool_ and _Crazy for You_ and _I Wanna Be Your Lover_. He played _Mamma Mia_ and Goro yanked out the aux cord but he was smiling, and that’s what mattered.

“The 27th then”, Ren agrees, folding his hand over Goro’s. “That’s only four days. We’ll be fine.”

“Who are you trying to convince?”, Goro snarks but his smile ruins it. They’re holding hands. Goro stares down at them, traces Ren’s skin, over and over and over again. He brings his hand up and kisses it. Stays there.

“You did that last night.” Goro hums.

“I know. I was thinking about life, how mine has always lead to you. I was feeling grateful. See?” He holds their palms side by side, the long swooping groove of their life lines so different on either hand but somehow meeting in the middle. “We match.”

“I’m coming back”, Ren repeats, curls his fingers around Goro’s.

“I know”, Goro nudges his forehead against his shoulder. “Oh, wait—”, the keychain jingles as as Goro pulls it from his pocket and presses it into his hand. “Here.”

There’s a key in his palm.

“What..?”

“Incentive to come back”, is what Goro says, like Goro himself isn’t incentive enough. Like Ren hasn’t already left his phone charger and a pair of socks and headphones to _‘come back’_ for.

“Thank you”, he says instead, kisses Goro’s cheek. “I’ll take care of it.” Goro gives his chest a little push.

“Go, get on your train. Text me when you get home.”

“See you at the end of the week.”

Goro softens. “Yeah, see you then.”

Ren kisses him once more and then he’s off, and from the train window he can see Goro’s flush, and his lithe fingers against his mouth. He waves, short and pleased. Ren waves back.

He leans his head back against the train seat and holds the keychain tight, it leaves an indent in his palm. As the train pulls out of the station he closes his eyes. 

He can wait four days.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!
> 
> — tnevmucric.carrd.co/


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